Free Andromeda’s Choice by William C. Dietz Page A

for a moment and smiled. “You know what? That sounds good. Let’s do it.” McKee passed a robot named George on the way to the elevator and neither party acknowledged the other.

CHAPTER: 4
    You can’t go home again.
    THOMAS WOLFE
Standard year 1940
    PLANET EARTH
    The
Imperialus
had entered Earth orbit at some point during what McKee considered to be the night. So when she met Larkin for breakfast in the Starlight Room restaurant, the planet was looming over the ship. It looked like a blue marble wrapped in cotton. McKee felt a lump rise to partially block her throat as she looked up at it. The last time Cat Carletto had seen Earth from space, she barely noticed it, or thought about her family, other than to savor the sense of freedom associated with leaving them behind.
    Now her parents were dead, McKee felt guilty about how selfish she’d been, and there was nothing she could do to make up for it. Her train of thought was interrupted by Larkin. “Hey, McKee . . . Pay attention. What do you want for breakfast?”
    McKee turned to find that a robot was waiting to take her order. “I’ll have a cup of caf,” she said. “Plus a piece of toast and a bowl of fruit.”
    â€œJeez,” Larkin said. “You call that a breakfast? Why bother?”
    â€œI don’t want to get fat,” McKee replied primly. “Like some people I could mention.”
    Larkin, who was normally lean, looked puffy after weeks of eating the ship’s food. He grinned. “No problem. I’ll work it off in the nightclubs. So what’s next? When do we go dirtside?”
    McKee sighed. The Legion told Larkin what to do, and he liked it that way. So rather than read the messages sent to his cabin, he was relying on a noncom to brief him. “They’re going to take the passengers on the upper decks off first,” McKee said. “So our shuttle doesn’t depart until 1600. It will take a couple of hours to put down, so it’ll be evening by the time we arrive. A butter bar is supposed to meet us.”
    Larkin made a face. Like many enlisted people, he was generally suspicious of officers, but especially contemptuous of second lieutenants, often referred to as “butter bars” because of the gold insignia they wore. That was because most of them were young, inexperienced, and full of themselves. Except for the so-called jackers, that is—meaning soldiers promoted from the ranks. “Hey,” Larkin said, as the food arrived. “Did you know that three people were killed during the trip? They took the bodies off an hour ago. Everybody’s talking about it.”
    â€œNo,” McKee answered, as she took a sip of caf. “What happened?”
    Larkin shrugged as he tucked into a plate heaping with sausages, eggs, and hash browns. “There was some sort of fight. That’s what I heard.”
    McKee nodded and took another sip of caf. Her food remained untouched.
    Â â€¢Â â€¢Â â€¢Â 
    Although the shuttle wasn’t as fancy as the one used to ferry first-class passengers to the surface, it was luxurious by Legion standards. One important difference was the ARGRAV generator that protected everyone aboard from the often messy effects of a zero-gee ride. Military shuttles weren’t equipped with such frivolities. As the vessel departed the liner’s launch bay, Larkin had settled in and was halfway through his second drink.
    McKee’s mood was quite different from her companion’s. She had gotten away with murder. Or so it seemed. But even if that was the case, some difficult days lay ahead. Avery believed that the short hair, scar, and uniform were disguise enough. But were they? Millions of people would watch the medal ceremony or news stories pertaining to it. What if some old friend or enemy recognized her? Royer had.
    The thought opened a chasm in the pit of her stomach. Fear was a constant companion now,